By the time they reached a village Anthony deemed large enough to spend the night in, he looked haggard. Charlie supposed she might as well, if she’d had to walk all day. Their pace had been slowed to accommodate the lame horse, which Anthony had been loath to leave at the side of the road to fend for itself.

The sunset painted the sky in a brilliant array of red and gold as Anthony led the horse through the neat village street toward the crossroads at its center. Buildings encircled a three-story edifice, the biggest in the village by far. The painted swinging sign depicted a mug of ale but had no words.

When Anthony helped her from the horse, he lingered, hands on her waist as he waited to see if she could hold herself upright. His palms splayed against her, warm.

“Can you stand?” he asked, his voice rough.

She nearly pretended weak knees, simply for the excuse to keep him near. If he kissed her, she wouldn’t have to pretend. However, they weren’t in a clearing in the middle of a deserted forest; they stood in the center of a populated village. Even if he claimed them as man and wife yet again—which they had already decided they must in order to be united against Lieutenant Stills whenever he made his move—kissing in public would be unseemly.

She mustered a shaky smile. “Yes, thank you.” Her voice emerged breathless. Their kiss in the forest had been so tentative—sweet, almost, in comparison with their other two kisses. She couldn’t help but feel as though something between them had changed.

However, as he stepped back, he gave no indication that he was as affected by their nearness. She stifled her disappointment as he announced his intention to bring the horses to the stable. This was also according to plan, a plan they’d hatched little by little as they stopped to rest and water the horses. Each time, he had remained near to her, caressing her cheek or toying with her hair. He hadn’t kissed her again, however much she had hoped that he would. In fact, their conversations after the first had been entirely too brief, a few sentences at most.

While Anthony and Lieutenant Stills stabled the horses, where Anthony was to inquire of the stable hands whether they had any additional horses they could buy or trade for their lame mount, Charlie entered the inn. Anthony’s part in the ruse would soon be set, when his inquiries alerted Lieutenant Stills to the notion that they had enough money to replace their mounts. While the potential traitor was thus occupied, it was Charlie’s duty to uncover whether or not this town housed a magistrate who might be able to help them.

The common room of the inn was full, with people clustered around a woman who played a pianoforte and sang like an angel. The words were a bit rougher than one might find in a London drawing room, but her performance was nothing short of stirring. The rapt attention she drew from the customers, mostly male, meant that Charlie was able to slip up to the long counter lined with stools and catch the attention of the barkeeper.

“Hello, sir. Would I be able to let a room from you, or is the innkeeper around?”

The young man, a few years shy of Anthony’s age at her guess, gave her a ready smile. “That’s my pa. I can help you, miss.”

“Mrs.,” she corrected. “Mrs. Graylocke. My husband and our friend are bringing the horses round to the stables at this moment.”

Calling herself Mrs. Graylocke felt strange and yet liberating at the same time. The thrill she got from lying tingled through her as though she were the spy her mother was.

Here she was, taking on a new identity for the sake of her mission and learning information that would help the coup they planned. This after adventuring through the British countryside, which, much to her disappointment, looked much the same as the woods and pastures surrounding Tenwick Abbey. It wasn’t nearly the exotic adventure she dreamed of, but the fact that she’d found herself mired in this situation with Anthony…

She swallowed and smiled once more. “I’m afraid we must beg special favor. Are you familiar with the Graylocke name? Perhaps Tenwick?”

“Of Tenwick Abbey? You’re married to a duke’s son?” He set down the silverware he’d been polishing and tugged on his forelock. “Are you some grand lady? You’re pretty enough to be.”

That had been the ambition of her family, when she’d initially made her coming out, for Charlie’s beauty to ensnare the heart of a lord so they no longer had to live with the deplorable Lord Harker. Although her older sister had thought herself plain, in the end it had been her beauty and wit to ensnare the heart of a lord. She was the true Mrs. Graylocke, not Charlie.

Charlie had never wanted that future for herself. Not bewitching a man with her beauty—as if that were her only amiable quality. And certainly not marriage. Not even… with Anthony.

Blast. Where he was concerned, she feared that she would relinquish her dreams of adventure. When he kissed her, that felt like an adventure in itself.

She bit her lip and told the barkeep, “I’m no lady. My husband is—”

Was Anthony a lord? She’d only ever heard him called Captain Graylocke. Wait… his younger brother, Gideon, was a lord, so Anthony must be as well. He didn’t act like one. Then again, all the Graylockes were much humbler than the typical aristocratic family.

Charlie smiled and completed, “Captain Anthony Graylocke, the middle child.” That sounded odd. Anthony was a war hero. Surely he should be known for something other than the fact that his father—and now brother—was a duke.

The young man smiled at her. “Well, I can see how a pretty bit o’ muslin like you caught his eye. You’ll want two rooms, or three?”

Three? He must assume that Anthony, like most London lords, would want to sleep away from his wife. Then again, given the glint in the young man’s eye, perhaps he was hoping to join her in bed himself. Not bloody likely. Charlie clasped her hands together so hard, her fingernails left crescent-shaped imprints in her skin. If Anthony had been here…

Remain calm. She was in public and would take care to remain that way. In the meantime, perhaps she could use the young man’s interest in her appearance to her advantage.

She gave him what she hoped was a helpless look. “I’m so happy you recognize my husband’s family, because you see, we were robbed in the last inn we stayed in. We have no belongings to speak of and little money. Would it be possible to send the accounts of our stay to Tenwick Abbey to have them paid? We’ll take two rooms and two meals and be on our way with as little trouble as possible.”

The young man frowned. “I’d have to ask my pa, but I don’t see as how that would be a problem. Whenever a lord passes through, we usually send the bill that way.”

Perhaps Anthony had been right to choose a larger village than the others they’d passed along the way. Charlie wondered if a smaller inn would have been so accommodating.

“Thank you. And”—she leaned forward, lowering her voice—“who would we turn to in matters of law around here? We’re so far from London, I’m not sure if I should hope for a magistrate.”

The barkeep puffed up. “Not so far from London, madam. It’s only a day and a half away. Perhaps you can make it there in one if you push hard.”

If that were true, they weren’t nearly as close to Tenwick Abbey as they’d hoped. Anthony’s ancestral home resided two days’ travel away from London. Should they alter their destination?

The man added, “And we do have a magistrate in town, as it so happens. Sir Walter. He lives not half an hour down the main road on the way to London.”

Charlie smiled, this time with relief. They had an ally nearby after all, if Lieutenant Stills proved too much to handle. “Thank you,” she said with feeling. “I’ll be certain to tell my husband of this and learn what he’d like to do regarding the theft.”

Or in this case, the suspected traitor.

She laid her hand on the counter. “Would you be able to talk to your father about those rooms? We’re dreadfully tired, and I’m certain my husband will want to retire the moment he returns from the stables. We’ll eat in the room as well, if possible.”

“I’ll ask straight away,” the young man said as he backed away from her.

So far, her part in the plan had gone smashingly. Had Anthony’s?

* * *

The hostler made a disapproving noise under his breath as he examined the horse’s foreleg. “You shouldn’t have traveled with her so far,” he admonished. “She needs time off that leg, more of it now that she’s spent the day making that injury worse. It might have been healed in a week.”

Although Gray had expected that pronouncement, it chafed nonetheless. He didn’t have a day to spare, let alone a week. He stifled his irritation. “I’m afraid I’m in rather a hurry to be home to Tenwick Abbey. Do you know if there are some horses for trade or sale? If we can trade this one for a fresh horse, or purchase another, it would much speed along our journey.”

Frowning, Stills stepped closer. A couple inches shorter than Gray, the lieutenant lowered his voice to such a degree that Gray had to lean his head closer.

“Sir, we’ve been robbed. We don’t have the blunt to purchase a new horse. I don’t know how we’re to let rooms for the night.”

“I keep the bulk of my coin in my boot. An old habit, after I was pickpocketed one too many times. It’s enough for one horse, maybe two if someone will trade in the injured nag. My family name should do to purchase us rooms for the night.”

Gray voiced the lie in the same cavalier manner he might have answered before he’d started suspecting Stills of being his enemy. The pit of his belly was as hard as rock. He didn’t want to believe it, even if the evidence suggested Stills was responsible for their setbacks. This was a man Gray had fought alongside, a man he had entrusted his life to on more than one occasion.

Now, as he studied his longtime companion, Gray couldn’t help but wonder if the flash of disapproval across the other man’s face was his imagination. He might have been seeing signs that weren’t there.

The hostler, unaware of their exchange, waited for Lieutenant Stills to clasp his hands behind him and take a step back before he spoke again. He trained his gaze on Gray.

“The innkeeper might be persuaded to sell one of the bays.” He pointed to the far corner. “They don’t get much exercise, these days, as the family has little cause to travel. I can ask and perhaps spread the word around town.”

“Do that,” Gray answered decisively. “We’ll need to leave not long after dawn tomorrow. I’ll confer with you then on the decision. And see if anyone would be willing to frank the cost to my brother, the Duke of Tenwick.” If he found someone willing to relinquish their horse on his word that his family would pay, he might be able to procure mounts for both him and Charlie, after all.

Turning, he left their mounts in the stable hand’s care and strode to the inn. He hoped that he and Stills had dallied long enough for Charlie to make her inquiries.

His second-in-command fell into step behind him as they entered the inn. The whispered chatter paused a minute as the patrons swung their gaze toward him. As the son of a duke, Gray was accustomed to scrutiny. He kept the cloak around his shoulders to shield his state of undress beneath and strode for the blonde seated on a stool at the end of the bar. As he reached her, the woman at the pianoforte began to pluck at the keys and drew the attention of those gathered in a ring around her.

Gray bristled as he witnessed the young man behind the counter, of an age with his younger brother, lean forward and give Charlie a wink. She shifted in place. Was she flattered?

He smothered the hot feeling in his chest as he laid his hand on the small of her back. “Hello, darling,” he said, his voice tight. “Did you manage to procure us rooms?” He didn’t take his eyes off the young man making calf eyes at her.

Perhaps he had no right to be jealous, seeing as he hadn’t done the honorable thing and offered for her hand. They’d been alone together. If anyone learned that they’d shared a room—never mind that he’d slept on the floor—her reputation would be ruined. He should ask her to marry him. It was the right thing to do.

So what was stopping him? When she turned her gaze up to him with a smile, his heart skipped a beat. She was too beautiful by half, wild and somehow ladylike at the same time.

She had the mettle to do whatever was necessary, and the strength of character not to fall to hysterics at the least setback. She might make him a very good wife—whether he would make her a good husband was hard to say. He’d been waiting for years for the wild streak in him to fade before he considered taking a wife. It hadn’t yet, but if she was a bit wild at heart, too, maybe it didn’t need to.

These questions, compounding upon the problem with his mother, made his head throb. He could only focus on one problem at a time. That had to be saving Mother’s life.

The flirtatious barkeeper said, “I’ve checked with Pa. Your rooms are all squared away. Pa said you might have three rooms, if you’d prefer to sleep apart from your wife, my lord.”

And have this bounder join her instead? Gray gritted his teeth. “Thank you, but I prefer to share a bed with my wife.”

The young man’s smile faded as Gray pinned him beneath the same hard stare he gave misfits who joined his crew. The man tugged on his forelock. “Of course, my lord. I can show you to your rooms, if you’re ready.”

“I am.”

As he started after the innkeeper’s son, Stills asked, “Might we arrange a private room to eat supper?”

Gray exchanged a look with Charlie. They’d agreed to keep their distance from Stills, not only because they feared their suspicions about him would come into the open if they spent too much time socializing.

Gray had never been particularly adept at subterfuge—unlike the rest of his family, it seemed. If they were going to catch Stills in the act of sabotage, he had to keep his distance.

Charlie feathered her hand over Gray’s arm. “Didn’t you promise to take supper with me… alone?” She licked her lips before speaking the last word.

Throughout the day, Stills had witnessed enough intimate moments between them, mostly concocted for the benefit of keeping their suspicions secret, for him to understand why they might want privacy. Nevertheless, he seemed disapproving as Gray answered in the affirmative.

“I did give her my word. We should all turn in early, as well. It’s been a long day, and we’ll be riding hard if I can find us another horse or two.”

Stills didn’t say a word, but Charlie beamed as she took his arm and strolled with him. “That sounds like a grand idea!”

Raising his voice, Gray asked the barkeep, “Would you be able to arrange for our meals to be sent up to our rooms?”

“Of course, my lord.”

As they reached the base of the stairs, Stills smiled. “Then I suppose I’ll see you both at dawn.” If Gray hadn’t suspected him to be the orchestrator of their recent mishaps, he would have thought the warmth in his voice to be genuine.

In contrast, his answering smile felt brittle. “That we will.”

He guided Charlie up the steps to the second story, where the barkeep directed them to two rooms. When the young man held the door open for Charlie to enter, Gray caught and held his gaze. He stepped in after her and thanked the barkeeper curtly. He planted himself between the young man and Charlie until the door shut.

If she noticed his jealous behavior, she ignored it. When he turned, he found her perched on the coverlet of the bed. The quilted bedspread was of much finer quality than the last two inns at which they had stayed the night. The bed and, indeed, the room as well were larger and furnished to better suit a ducal son. Not that it mattered a whit to him, but the innkeeper must have allotted the nicest room to him and Charlie, if the intricately painted screen and carved wooden vanity were any indication.

Charlie toed off her slippers, leaving them at the foot of the bed as she drew her knees to her chest. “Now what do we do?”

He crossed to the window, opening the shutters to allow a good view of the courtyard below.

At the corner of his field of vision resided the stables, likely better visible from Charlie’s vantage on the bed. He sat next to her, bracing his palms on the bedspread to avoid the temptation of touching her. Whether Stills attempted to enter their room or abscond with their horses, Gray would be ready for him.

“Stills won’t make a move until there is certain to be no witnesses about. We’ll wait until the noise dies down below. Then we’ll have to be on our guard.”

* * *

Gray didn’t know precisely when he dozed off, but he woke as Charlie shifted her head beneath his cheek. Her soft hair brushed his skin. If his back and neck didn’t ache so much from the prolonged position, he might have considered it a perfectly pleasant way to wake up.

“Anthony, do you see that?” She spoke in a whisper, barely disturbing the silence.

He blinked hard. With all light doused in the room, his eyes adjusted rapidly to the meager moonlight drifting out of the cloud-dotted night sky. As he squinted out the window, a flicker of light danced behind a darker shadow, silhouetting a hunched figure.

Panic doused him. He shot to his feet with alacrity. “Stills.” Blast. He regretted falling asleep. By the time they reached the ground floor, the man might have already done away with the horses. “Stay here. Or better yet, fetch the magistrate so we have him on hand.”

Charlie stood, crossing her arms. “The devil I will! I’m going with you. I won’t leave you to face a traitor alone.”

If Stills hurt her, Gray would never forgive himself. He’d promised her parents that he would keep her safe. Even more, he’d promised himself. However, if Stills somehow got the upper hand… He didn’t have time to scrutinize his options. Time was of the essence.

Reluctantly, Gray capitulated. “Very well. Please, Charlie, I’m trusting you not to put yourself in undue danger. If this turns physical, let me handle him.”

“Hand me your pistol.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

She held out her hand, asking again for the useless weapon. “Your pistol.”

“I haven’t got any ammunition.”

“No, but Stills might not know that. I can use it to bluff, or at the very least, I can club him over the head with it if he gets too close.”

As he handed over the weapon, Gray silently vowed not to allow the enemy close enough for her to make good on her promise. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

She didn’t argue but donned her slippers as she followed in his footsteps. He kept one hand on the hilt of his dirk, his only weapon if this came to blows. Gray hoped to find his former second-in-command in such a compromising position that the man would have no choice but to surrender to his fate. Honorably, as was done when they took prisoners of war.

Their footfalls on the wooden floorboards provided the only sound as they barreled down to the nearest exit. As he fumbled for the latch, he held up his hand to advise caution. Charlie didn’t protest, so he eased the door open.

Dew or recent drizzle glinted off the scattered weed sprouting near the wall. The packed earth was soft, not quite mud as he stepped into the courtyard. The stable loomed ahead, with the glow of the lantern out of sight. Had Stills already left, or had he heard their approach and lain in wait? Cautiously, Gray eased forward, keeping himself between the stables and Charlie as he eased along the wall of the inn. He breathed shallowly. The air was damp, with a bit of an acrid bite.

Charlie ghosted her hand over his shoulder. “Do you smell smoke?”

He cursed viciously. What had Stills lit on fire—the stables or the inn? He bolted for the stables, drawing his dirk as he dashed.

Stills crouched on the far side, muttering about the dampness of the grass as he tried to light the stable wall on fire using the lantern. Smoke curled, from here and elsewhere, given the increased bite to the air. The moment he glanced up to see Gray’s approach, Gray charged.

He slammed Stills into the wall. As the lantern toppled onto the damp grass and snuffed out, it left spots of light on his vision. Blind, he grappled with Stills for the dirk still in his hand. Instinct warred with years of memories. The man was his comrade in arms… or so Gray had thought. He wanted to avoid bloodshed if he could.

The dirk slipped out of his sweaty palm and onto the ground. He wrestled with Stills, who grunted as he groped for the weapons on his waist. Gray slammed him into the wall again to knock the breath from his opponent. An elbow in his ribs did the same to him.

“Cease your struggles, or I’ll shoot!”

Bloody hell, Charlie! What was she thinking? Her pronouncement didn’t deter Stills in the least.

Voice strained with effort as he continued to fight Gray, the traitor bit off, “You wouldn’t risk shooting your lover.”

Lover. Gray’s stomach flipped at the word. Seemingly, they’d done an admirable job of convincing the enemy that they were intimately involved. If Stills got free, he could harm her. Gray fought harder, using his bulk to pin the slightly smaller man.

Heedless to the danger—or perhaps putting more faith in Gray’s abilities than she ought, given his precarious hold—Charlie shortened the distance between them until she angled the pistol from a mere foot away. “From here, I cannot miss.”

“You’re bluffing,” Stills said, even as he froze in place. “You don’t have ammunition.”

Gray tightened his hold painfully. “We procured some tonight.” The lie tasted like cold steel on his tongue.

Sweat trickled down his neck. Back away, Charlie, he silently begged. The darkness likely prevented her from reading his expression, even though his eyes were starting to adjust once more.

“Surrender,” Gray commanded.

A sneer entered Stills’s voice. “I don’t recognize your authority. I’ve never been loyal to you.”

Gray fisted his hand in the man’s shirt and hauled him away from the stable wall. He kicked the back of his knees, forcing him to kneel as he wrestled the traitor’s arms behind him.

“Charlie, keep the gun trained on him, and divest him of his belt.”

She did as he asked, her movements quick and jerky as she stripped the traitor of his weapons. At Gray’s behest, she passed him the leather belt, which he used to bind Stills’s hands behind his back before he searched the man for additional weapons. He found ammunition, a smaller pistol, and a sharp knife. He stamped out the wisps of smoke against the stables during the short search. Once he had the matter under control, he stood and placed himself between Stills and Charlie.

“You’ve been my second-in-command for years.”

“Quite so,” the traitor spat. “Years of my life wasted. And for what, to keep an eye on the correspondence your brother sent? He never sent you any sensitive material. Never so much as anything in code.”

Charlie stepped abreast of Gray. “You’re a French spy. You’ve been sabotaging our efforts all along.”

Stills issued a low, mirthless chuckle. “It took you long enough to catch on. I’d say that was a compliment to my skills, but it’s been pitifully easy to keep you off course.”

“I trusted you,” Gray said, his voice hard. Beneath the surface, his conviction wavered. How could his closest comrade have been a French spy? He would have known. It couldn’t be true.

“And now we’ll finally get our revenge when your mother gets what she deserves.”

Gray’s ears rang. When they and his vision cleared, he’d pinned Stills to the stable wall by his throat. The wood still trembled from the force of the blow. “What do you know of the plot?”

Stills gasped for breath around Gray’s hand. Disgusted, Gray recoiled and dropped his arm.

After several deep breaths, the spy croaked, “Nothing. However, I knew when I heard of the plot that this was my chance to make a difference in the war. You’ll never make it in time after all I’ve done.”

Gray’s heart dropped into the soles of his boots. It can’t be. They would save Mother yet. They had to.

Charlie laid a hand on his arm. Her touch soothed him. “He’s wrong,” she said softly. “What has he done? So we’re a bit closer to London than we aimed to be. Morgan’s child is not yet four months old. Lady Graylocke will be at Tenwick Abbey with her grandson, I’m sure of it. She’s safe.”

She was safe, unless the assassin sought her out there. The information had boasted that the French wanted to prove they could touch the British spymaster anywhere, even among friends. What more intimate a place than with her family? Dear Lord, were Morgan and his child in jeopardy as well? Gray felt sick.

Charlie added, “Causing our horses to fall lame and steering us in the wrong direction will not stop us, Anthony. We will stop this plot.”

When Stills started to speak, he coughed instead. The sound was raw. After spitting to the side, he managed to force out his words. “You think that’s all I’ve done. Then you’re still blind. I was the person who dampened the map and steered us into the embankment. Ensuring the horses threw a shoe or fell lame, leading us down the wrong path—it was too simple to be truly satisfying. Not to mention, you two were pitifully easy to drug the night I stole your belongings to keep us off track. Even now, you’re far too busy contending with me to put out the fire at the other end of the stables.”

Confound it! He’d thought there was too much smoke for that one tiny fire. “Stay here and keep him under watch,” he commanded Charlie, hoping Stills was too trussed up to do her any harm. “I’ll save the horses.”

After all, they had no hope of reaching his mother in time if they didn’t have mounts.